


Eros. Ludus. Pragma.

by sssssssim



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 16:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15755115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sssssssim/pseuds/sssssssim
Summary: Sherlock invites Molly on a two weeks summer vacation at his parents' cottage.





	Eros. Ludus. Pragma.

**Author's Note:**

> this is nothing but fluff. no plot, no intrigue, no anything.

 

When she got the text, a sunny day in late May, Molly just stared down at her phone, confused as hell.

_IF YOU DON’T HAVE ANY EXTRAVAGANT SUMMER PLANS, WE’RE GOING TO MY PARENT’S COTTAGE THE LAST TWO WEEKS OF AUGUST. YOU SHOULD HAVE MORE THAN ENOUGH VACATION DAYS LEFT._

She did have more than enough vacation days left. And she didn’t have any other summer plans, she never did. That still didn’t explain why Sherlock had sent her the text.

They were doing fine. They were doing very well, which in itself was a miracle after everything that happened at Sherrinford. But in the months that followed, they had managed to go back to their normal, working side by side in the morgue, even if now those hours were filled with a lot less Sherlockisms. He was kinder towards her, he wasn’t trying to butter her up to get his way, he was just… himself. A new and improved version of himself, because he thought twice before he spoke and he was obviously careful not to say or do anything to hurt her. It was ridiculous, at start, but as time passed, things evened out and it all went back to normal.

Molly got over her hurt, Sherlock got over trying to be anything else except himself around her. They spent time together at the morgue, working cases and doing experiments in between, having dinner at Baker Street sometime, spending time with John and Rosie. They were friends, for real this time, and everything was fine.

The text was still weird. So Molly took a deep breath and called.

‘I appreciate your politeness, Molly.’, is what he answered with. ‘But a simple declining text would have sufficed.’

‘I’m not declining, necessarily.’, she said, slowly. ‘I’m just making a few more inquiries.’

‘Alright.’, he said after a beat.

‘Why are we going to your parent’s cottage? Who is _we_ and, most importantly, how do you expect to survive two weeks without a case?’

It took a beat, but Sherlock chuckled. ‘You know me so well.’

‘I do.’, Molly nodded. ‘Hence the confusion.’

He took a deep breath. ‘We are going to my parents’ cottage because there is enough room and fresh air, _we_ is the two of us, John, Rosie and Mycroft, and of course I won’t survive for two weeks, not if it’s just my brother and I.’

Molly read between the lines. Everyone thought Sherlock needed some time away from London, he disagreed. His parents thought they needed to rekindle their relationships with their sons, after Sherrinford. He probably disagreed, but knew, deep down, that something needed to be done. He really didn’t think that would happen if John and Rosie wouldn’t be there to diffuse the situation.

Which just left her. She didn’t want to ask directly why he wanted her there.

So she just asked him if he was sure.

Sherlock, being Sherlock, probably understood exactly what she was asking, because he hesitated answering, for a moment, but when he did speak, Molly could hear the smile on his lips.

‘You’re going to love it there. At night you can see the stars and during the day, there is absolutely nothing to do but breathe in, eat my mother’s cooking and get sunburn.’

That was enough for her. She thanked Sherlock, asked for exact dates and filed in her vacation request that day.

▽△

Not much changed over the following months, but when there was only one week left untill their departure, Sherlock had a breakdown. They were in the lab, she was working on an autopsy report as he was doing some sort of experiment involving human nails, and he startled her by yelling, somewhat savagely, and angrily getting up from his chair.

‘Fancy a walk, Molly?’, he wasn’t really asking, already heading for the door.

With a sigh, she followed him. Silently, she followed him for the next 10 minutes, until they got to a park on Fortune Street. It wasn’t a very large park, but the sun was out and the leaves were green and even if Molly knew Sherlock was in some sort of mental anguish, she felt herself relaxing.

But he didn’t look like he was going to stop, so Molly boldly grabbed his hand and dragged him on the grass. When she sat down on it, he followed. They sat in silence for a while, sunbathing like it wasn’t the middle of a Tuesday workday, but she knew that, eventually, she would have to go back to work.

‘Come on, Sherlock, unfortunately I can’t stand here all day. Talk to me.’

‘I don’t understand what they plan to solve with this!’

As always, a conversation with Sherlock started in the middle of it. Thankfully, Molly knew what he was thinking about.

‘Do you love your parents?’

That threw him off, and he spluttered, for a beat. ‘Of course I love them, they’re my parents, that’s not-’

‘What about Mycroft?’

Sherlock pulled a face of disgust.

‘They probably think you don’t.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’, Sherlock frowned.

‘It’s not.’, Molly said kindly. ‘They probably think that after what Euros did, you’re channeling your anger and resentment towards them.’

‘I’m not doing that.’

She narrowed her eyes.

‘Not voluntarily.’, Sherlock amended.

‘You do love your family.’, Molly smiled. ‘Which is why you’re going to spend two weeks at your parent’s cottage, bickering with your brother but not spilling blood, and in your own Sherlock way, you’ll assure your family that you don’t blame them for Euros’ mistakes.’

‘Will I?’, he sounded pitiful.

‘Yes you will.’, she chuckled. ‘The fresh air will do you well and you always enjoy spending time with Rosie. Who knows, you might even end up enjoying yourself.’

‘That’s preposterous.’, Sherlock said gruffly, but his eyes were sparkling, he didn’t mean it.

‘There’s also another issue I have.’, he went on in a serious manner. ‘You and I, we haven’t spent this much time together in a domestic setting since I was playing dead.’

Molly hummed, because she had been thinking about it as well. ‘Do you think it will be a problem?’

‘I wish it not to.’

That calmed her down, immediately. It was still an issue that might arise once they get there, but the fact that Sherlock had been sincere when he said he didn’t want that, it meant the world to Molly.

So she smiled at him and even convinced him to buy her a fancy coffee on their way back to the lab.

▽△

Thankfully, Molly was someone who planned for the apocalypse every single time, so she had her bags packed a few days before they were set to leave. And it was a good thing, because she got called into work the night before and only got home two hours before Sherlock was picking her up.

The two of them and Mycroft will be driving there, while John and Rosie will take the train for her first time. She didn’t actually expect Sherlock to be driving, but there he was, in a sleek black jeep, being polite and helping her with her bags, even as he was throwing her looks.

‘You can say it, Sherlock. I know I look dreadful.’

‘Not dreadful, but tired.’

She nodded. ‘I should be okay if we stop for coffee.’

‘Of course, but why did you have to go into work? Is there a case?’

‘There was, but then I solved it.’

‘Very well, Molly.’, he grinned. ‘You’ll tell me all about it, but only after we pick Mycroft up, he’ll be positively annoyed.’

Despite herself, she laughed, but did just that.

▽△

Mycroft insisted on sitting in the back, leaving her shotgun, so as soon as they got out of London, Molly took off her sandals and put her legs on the dashboard.

Sherlock didn’t comment on it, but raised an eyebrow. Mycroft pointed out how their Mummy would have been appalled. She had a feeling the rest of their stay was going to go similarly.

Still, she got the men to talk about their parents. She has talked to John about them, the first time he met them, but his accounts were very different from Sherlock’s, which were very different from Mycroft’s. She expected nothing else.

By the time they got to the beautiful cottage, she was excited to finally meet the Holmes parents.

▽△

They were lovely. Mr. Holmes was smiling and hugging her like they hadn’t just only met, and Mrs. Holmes all but dragged her to the kitchen and filled her up with delicious homemade food. And she didn’t take Rosie from her arms, even if it was clear that she wanted to.

After they were done with lunch, Molly felt like she was going to pass out at the table. Of course, Mrs. Holmes asked if she was sick. She explained, politely, that she had to go into work the night before.

‘You still haven’t told us _why_.’, Mycroft pointed out. ‘Why would they have called you, specifically, over the pathologist on call, especially knowing that you were leaving on vacation the next day?’

Both him and Sherlock were watching her intently, with narrowed eyes and a frightently curious look in their eyes. It was moments like these when you truly became aware that they were brothers.

Molly shook herself out of it. ‘Lestrade’s precinct got a new Detective.’

‘So it was a favor to Lestrade.’, Sherlock frowned.

‘Not really, he didn’t ask me to. But Detective Murdock is… he’s not an idiot’, she looked to Sherlock, ‘he’s actually quite good at his job, he has a lot of potential. But he’s young, very young, and his peers don’t treat him fairly because of it.’

‘Ah yes.’, Mycroft smirked at her. ‘Doctor Hooper, the patron saint of the mistreated and misjudged.’

Molly took the jab with a fond smile. ‘It’s why you and I are such good friends, Mycroft.’

His jaw dropped, and he seemed evidently disgusted. But his father started laughing, and Mrs. Holmes even snorted. John shook his head at Molly, but Sherlock looked at her with pride.

‘You deserve a nap, after that.’, he told her.

What he didn’t tell her was that she will be sleeping in his old room. But it was evident, by the books in the shelves and the periodic table painted above the wall.

‘It’s the warmest room in the cottage.’, he defended himself. ‘We’re in the countryside, it gets chilly at night.’

‘I’m fine sleeping anywhere, Sherlock, you don’t have to -’

‘This hasn’t been my room in years.’, he cut her off with a gentle smile. ‘It’s fine. Just get some rest, I predict board games in our evening schedule.’

He seemed absolutely horrified by the prospect, which was hilarious.

▽△

That evening was spent getting to know each other. There were no board games, but there were glasses of wine had in the garden, the Holmes parents and even Mycroft, sometimes, asking Molly all sorts of questions.

She didn’t mind it, she answered everything without hesitation, and even asked a couple of questions herself.

Sherlock seemed quite annoyed, but Rosie was there to keep him busy.

And the end of that first night, Molly knew that Mrs. Holmes was a brilliant woman, that she loved her children with a level of practicality that her husband didn’t poses. They were both lovely people to talk to, and it seemed that they liked Molly well enough.

Considering it was the first time she actually had a personal conversation with Mycroft and spent time with him, it was clear that he was studying her. He knew everything there was to know about her, having had read it in files, but now he was actually trying to get to know her.

It should have been overwhelming. John pointed it out, once, reminding the Holmes family that Molly needed to breathe. Nobody apologized. Sherlock pointed out how very bored he was, considering he knew all of this information.

Molly smiled and poured herself another glass of wine, asking Mrs. Holmes about their decision to move in this tiny town.

▽△

The next day Molly was allowed to help in the kitchen. Not much, just cutting up veggies and frying some chips, but it was still a big thing, considering all the men had been banned for life.

It was a very good moment to get Mrs. Holmes talking about how her boys were growing up, and she did.

After hearing some of the ridiculous stories, Molly loved them both just the tiniest bit more. The older woman assured her that there will be more stories, and together, they plotted a way to have Molly look at the baby pictures without Sherlock and Mycroft noticing.

That day, after lunch, Molly and Rosie went on an adventure in the garden, with Sherlock guarding them from the porch. But when the baby needed a bath, he helped Molly and he even read Rosie a story as she was falling asleep.

Dinner was had in the garden, because the weather was absolutely lovely, and Molly was spared of doing the dishes, so she and Rosie stayed outside a while longer.

So much so that the child fell asleep in her arms, cheek pressed to Molly’s chest. She didn’t dare move, not even after John came to check up on them.

He took a picture and sat down next to Molly.

‘I know it’s only day two, but this isn’t so bad, is it?’

‘No’, she didn’t hesitate, ‘it’s not. I love this place.’

‘Maybe we can check out the town, tomorrow?’

Molly nodded, clearly eager. ‘Their parents are lovely, too. Not really what I expected.’

‘Oh, I know.’, John’s eyes grew wide. ‘Trust me, I know.’

She giggled, and John smiled at her.

‘They like you too, you know. Although I didn’t expect any less.’

‘Thank you, John.’

‘I didn’t mean that as a compliment to you.’, he teased. ‘I just think they like anyone who is capable of keeping up with their offsprings.’

Molly rolled her eyes.

‘Don’t let them hear you call us that.’, Sherlock appeared out of nowhere. ‘You don’t want to get on Mummy’s bad side.’

Rosie started fussing at the sound of his voice, and after John called him a couple of awful names, he took his daughter to bed, leaving Molly alone with Sherlock.

‘Star gazing?’, he inquired.

‘I don’t know’, she smiled, ‘I’ve heard that's not of interest to you.’

Sherlock huffed, rolling his eyes. ‘Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the beauty of it.’

He looked away from her, kind of pointedly getting comfortable in the chair, looking up at the stars. Molly did the same, and they were silent for a while.

‘John is as right as he is wrong.’, he said in a lowered voice, as to not disturb the silence.

‘Oh?’, she didn’t turn to look at him.

‘My parents do like you, that is true. But it is not because you put up with me. Mummy likes you because you are as smart as you are kind, and my father likes your bad jokes and the smile you put on my face.’

At that, Molly did turn to look at him, but he didn’t.

‘They also feel like they owe you.’, Sherlock went on. ‘Not just because you’re the reason I survived Moriarty, but because of how Euros hurt you.’

‘Is that why I’m here?’, she couldn’t help but ask.

‘No.’, he said strongly, finally looking at her. ‘You’re here because I wanted you to be. The rest is’, he carelessly waved a hand, ‘just a bonus.’

Molly accepted it, humming softly.

‘What about Mycroft, then? What’s his excuse for being so… interested?’

Sherlock looked away, hesitating. ‘I assume I am the reason for that. He’s interested because I’m… because you’re my friend. Because I chose you as a friend. That’s surely intriguing to him.’

Molly didn’t like the heavy weight that settled on Sherlock’s shoulders, so she giggled, making him turn to her in confusion.

‘I like how you still think you had any say in the matter.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘What does that mean, Molly?’

‘You were always going to become my friend, no doubt about it. I tend to get what I want, in these situations.’

He studied her, for a few seconds.

‘You’re joking.’, it wasn’t said as a question, but it was.

‘Yes, I’m joking, Sherlock.’, she grinned. ‘Now, do you want to help me form a plan to become Mycroft’s friend?’

‘No.’, he said gravely. ‘Absolutely not.’

Again, Molly giggled. ‘Your mother did say you never liked to share your toys.’

‘You are not my toy!’, was Sherlock's surprising reaction.

Molly bot her lip, because she wanted to point out that she was _his_. But she didn’t say that, opting to change the subject, asking Sherlock what there was to see in town. He seemed just a little bit grateful.

▽△

The next morning, Molly woke up early, too early for a vacation, but she felt rested. She was surprised to find anyone in the kitchen, but Mycroft was there. He was wearing silk pajamas and reading the news on a tablet, but he did bid her a polite good morning.

Mycroft was drinking tea, and she poured herself a cup, but she also started making coffee and he was very surprised when she not only gave him some, but with the right amount of sugar he liked.

He lowered his tablet at that, switching it off and watching her, kind of rudely.

‘You know, Mycroft, women don’t like to be stared at first thing in the morning.’

‘Oh I couldn't care less about the state of your looks. If I did, I would be staring at your legs.’

She blinked down at that, but she supposed he was right. Molly was wearing sleeping shorts and even though she quite liked her legs, they weren’t a part of her body that she got to showcase often. Especially not to Mycroft.

‘I’m not embarrassed.’, she looked back at him. ‘Just mildly uncomfortable.’

He hummed, still staring at her face.

Molly sighed. ‘You could just ask, you know. Instead of trying to deduce whatever it is that you want to know, you could ask me. Like you did yesterday.’

‘You wouldn’t answer.’

‘Try me.’, she stared right back, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Mycroft smiled, slowly. It looked downright evil. ‘I am trying to deduce if you are still in love with my brother.’

Molly didn’t startle, like he intended, but she did sigh. Dealing with the Holmes brothers was exhausting, especially first thing in the morning.

‘First thing first, Mycroft Holmes’, she said strongly, ‘that is not any of your business. Secondly, it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?’

He tilted his head. ‘No, I suppose it doesn’t. I am merely curious.’

She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore, not even to me.’

It took a few beats, but he did look away, his shoulders relaxing a little tiny amount.

‘You surprise me, Miss Hooper. You always have, ever since my brother mentioned a brilliant pathologist who agreed to work with him, but this… is something else.’

‘This?’, she asked around a frown.

They locked eyes, and he lowered his voice. ‘The strength you are showing, not only moving past the cruelty you were forced to endure, but thriving after it, it is surprising. It is painfully obvious that your relationship with my brother is stronger than it has ever been, and dare I say it? I think it is a good thing, for the both of you.’

Molly smiled, feeling herself blush but not feeling embarrassed because of it.

‘I knew it.’, she winked. ‘You do care!’

Of course, Mycroft rolled his eyes very dramatically, making her laugh.

Their conversation went on to other things, and by the time John came down for breakfast, Molly had already convinced Mycroft to join them on their excursion in town. Of course, it made Sherlock want to join them, too, so they left Rosie with the Holmes’ and drove to town.

It really was a tiny place, with not much to do. They visited the Castle, which was nothing more that a slightly larger mansion, they had some coffee at the local pub, Molly spotted a few shops but didn’t convince any of the men to go with her, so they got in the car and drove back.

‘I didn’t think this through.’, Sherlock said, sparing a look at Molly. ‘I’m going to die in 26 hours, but you’ll be right behind me.’

‘You’re not going to die.’, she rolled her eyes.

‘Yes I am, I am going to die of boredom and you will follow.’

‘Stop being so dramatic.’, John tried.

‘It is a very plausible outcome.’, Mycroft said in a straight voice.

‘I’ll do some research.’, Sherlock said strongly. ‘I’m sure there are other places to visit within driving distance. At least we’ll have something to fill a couple of days with.’

Molly shook her head, but that didn’t sound too bad. Still…

‘I’m going to take your mother shopping one of these days.’

Both of the siblings groaned.

▽△

Mrs. Holmes was so excited, they went shopping the next day. Molly drove, and just followed the older woman around for the better part of the day.

There were few shops in town, but they were all locally owned and had hand-made pieces. Molly got a couple of dresses, a sweater, two bags and a pair of boots. Mrs. Holmes got a few random pieces of home decor and a couple of items of clothing. They had lunch at the pub, but it was good food and Molly enjoyed the older woman’s company. Which is why, after they ate, they visited the town’s sole bakery and got a few treats and headed to the park, sharing them while keeping up the easy chatter.

Molly thought, throughout the day, that Mrs. Holmes was going to say something to her, something serious, thanking her for saving Sherlock’s life, or, like Mycroft, asking if she was still in love with him. But the older woman didn’t, and for that, Molly was thankful.

She was smiling wildly as they made their way back into the cottage, and it took exactly one minute and 45 seconds of her being in her room before Sherlock barged in and demanded, in a whisper, to know exactly what she had spoken about with his mother.

‘You’re being ridiculous.’, Molly told him around her giggles. ‘Would you just relax?’

‘How can I possibly relax when my mother and my -’

He cut himself off, very abruptly. Molly smiled, gently.

‘I assume this is the first time you’ve brought a girl home?’

Sherlock cringed, but he nodded.

‘Except it’s not exactly that’, Molly went on, ‘because I’m just your friend. And your mother knows that, so she didn’t grill me about the state of my uterus or genetic diseases in my family history.’

He looked horrified, and it made her giggle again. But she also hugged him, briefly, and told him to calm down.

‘It’s just day four, Sherlock. How do you expect to survive our entire stay here if you get this worked up on day four?’

He looked her in the eye. ‘I don’t expect to survive. One way or another, this is going to kill me.’

‘It’s okay.’, she smirked. ‘I’ll save you again.’

▽△

Rosie fell asleep in Molly’s arms again, that night. More pictures were taken and even Mycroft forgot he wasn’t supposed to smile.

▽△

They went into town again the next day, but now it was just Molly, John and Rosie. As she played with her toys on a blanket in the park, John and her read side by side, cups of coffee between them. It was very pleasant.

‘Hey, so’, he said at one point, rummaging through the bag he had, ‘Sherlock told me to remind you.’

He gave her a bottle of sunscreen, and Molly laughed, even as she applied it to on her face, chest and arms.

‘Legs, too.’, John pointed out and she obliged.

Afterwards, he leveled Molly with a look.

‘Has he been… weirder? Since we’ve come here?’

She shrugged. ‘A little, but it’s to be expected, I think. They don’t do this often, do they? Bring friends over to their parents?’

‘No, they don’t.’, John agreed. ‘Last time they did, it was for a case.’

‘He seems a little… calmer, though. Doesn’t he?’

John glared, at her, mildly. ‘This morning he was yelling at the tree outside his window because it wasn’t providing enough shade.’

‘Well, yes’, she snorted, ‘but that’s not anything significant.’

It took a few moments, but John did nod. ‘I guess you’re right. Do you think you have anything to do with it?’

Molly rolled her eyes. ‘You can just ask, you know. Mycroft did.’

‘Ask… what?’, his eyes grew wide.

‘It doesn’t matter if I’m in love with him anymore. The friendship we have now is stronger than before, and that’s what matters.’

John nodded, slowly. ‘I was actually going to ask if he’s in love with you.’

‘No.’, she snorted. ‘Definitely not.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hm.’

Molly rolled her eyes again. ‘Get your head out of the gutter, John. It’s Sherlock. I’m pretty sure he’s aromantic.’

‘Yeah, but if he’s not…’, he insisted.

‘If he’s not you’ll be the first to know.’, she amended, smiling at him. ‘Probably even before Sherlock.’

He snorted and things got back to normal.

▽△

That night, Molly found herself unable to sleep. As silently as possible, she made her way outside, taking deep breaths of fresh air as she took small sips of warm milk.

It didn’t take long for Sherlock to find her. He didn’t comment on the fact that she wasn’t sleeping, he got straight to business.

‘I’ve been doing some research. Do you have anything sturdy with you?’

‘Sturdy?’, she frowned.

He tilted his head. ‘Not sandals and summer dresses.’

‘Ah. Yes, I have some hiking boots with me.’

‘Good.’, he grinned. ‘I found a cave an hour away. Apparently it’s haunted.’

There was excitement in his eyes, childish and frankly, kind of exhilarating.

‘John will most definitely say no on account of his war injury and Mycroft won’t even acknowledge the possibility of joining us, but I thought we could make a day out of it.’

‘You want to spend a whole day in a cave?’

‘Of course not.’, he rolled his eyes. ‘But we could pack a picnic and there are towns close to it, I’m sure you’ll find a shop or two to spend your money in.’

‘That’d be nice.’, she smiled, but it fell quickly. ‘Wouldn’t it be rude, though? We came here to spend time with your family.’

He rolled his eyes, again. ‘It’s either that, or I start shooting walls.’

Molly narrowed her eyes. ‘You don’t have a gun.’

Sherlock just smiled innocently, obviously fake.

‘Well I can’t have your parents’ beautiful home on my conscience.’

‘Brilliant.’, he stood up, grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. ‘We’ll leave early tomorrow morning, I already convinced my mother to pack us food. Best to get some rest now.’

He dragged her all the way to her room, his room, where he kissed her cheek quickly and wished her good night before he moved to leave. Sherlock froze, though, a couple of steps away. He must have just realized what he did, because this wasn’t normal, between them, good night kisses were not normal. As innocent as they were, kisses were kept for excruciating circumstances.

‘Good night, Sherlock.’, she couldn’t help but smile, desperately wanting to ease his mind. ‘Don’t let the bedbugs bite.’

He shook himself out of it. ‘No worries, I’ll fight them off.’

Molly laughed all the way to the bed.

▽△

Sherlock woke her up at 6AM, but he did it gently, with a cup of coffee and a gentle pat on the shoulder. His mother was already up, not only with breakfast ready for them, but with a bag of food already packed to go. She had to be some kind of superhero.

Molly accidentally said that out loud, because both Sherlock and his mother chuckled. The older woman also kissed Molly’s forehead, telling her she shouldn’t let Sherlock get them into any trouble.

He snarked something at his mother, but he also thanked her for the food and then he urged Molly to go change. She put on a pair of jeans shorts and a simple shirt, both of which she didn’t care for too much. As she promised Sherlock, she wore a pair of hiking boots.

When he saw her, he raised an eyebrow at her legs, which reminded her of the conversation she had with Mycroft. Wordlessly, she rolled her eyes. But he was wearing jeans, as well, and a tshirt, and it was a weird sight, seeing Sherlock Holmes out of his designer suits.

Still, neither of them said anything, and they drove off. It took a little over an hour to get to the cave, and the last 20 miles were driven in the woods, on forest paths. But Sherlock drove slow and steady, and they got there in one piece.

Molly stared. She could see the opening to the cave, but it was at least 30 feet high on a mountain wall made out of stone. Cold, grey stone that seemed impossible to climb.

‘There are stairs carved by previous explorers.’, Sherlock said, turning her around and pointing further down the stone wall, where Molly could, indeed, see something resembling stairs.

‘I’m not sure I can-’

‘It’ll be fine, I got equipment.’

At that, she turned to look at him. Sherlock seemed proud, as he explained that he had harnesses to link them together, headlights and helmets. He, apparently, got them from his parent’s shed. Molly didn’t ask, but she did put on all the gear Sherlock instructed her to.

It was not easy, climbing on those carved stairs, but Molly did it. Slowly, with Sherlock behind her instructing her exactly where she needed to put her hands and legs, but she did it. Feeling good about herself, she didn’t hesitate in going into the cave.

It was dark, obviously. Molly took some time to get used to seeing things only when her headlight was aimed there, but Sherlock was leading, now, and he apparently memorized the map, he knew exactly where they needed to go.

She trusted him a whole lot, Molly realized. The cave was damp and cold, there was a constant draft, it smelled of earth but piss too, and she was not just following Sherlock blindly, but literally tied to him.

‘You said the cave was haunted.’, Molly said at one point. ‘How come?’

‘It’s all bollocks.’, he was quick to shake his head. ‘People heard screaming, saw ghosts, markings appearing and disappearing, it’s all impossible.’

Molly hummed.

‘And all the accounts have happened after the storytellers have drunk or done drugs.’

‘Ah.’, she snorted. ‘That explains it.’

‘No need to worry.’, he smiled over his shoulder.

‘I’m not worried, clearly.’, she couldn’t help but point out strongly.

‘Clearly?’, Sherlock didn’t turn to look at her.

‘Sherlock.’, she said slowly. ‘If you disconnect our harnesses and run away, I’m doomed.’

He stopped walking and turned around to face her fully. ‘I would never-’

‘I know.’, she smiled. ‘I trust you won’t do that, so here I am, tied to you in a dark cave. And I’m not even worried.’

Sherlock looked to the side awkwardly, before regarding her again. ‘I meant that there’s no need to worry about ghosts, because they’re clearly not real.’

She grinned. ‘And even if they were, you would fight them for me.’

He rolled his eyes, but there was a smirk on the corner of his lips. ‘We have better things to do than fight ghosts, trust me.’

That confused her.

‘You didn’t think I’d bring you in just any cave, did you? Come on.’, he grabbed her hand, turning around. ‘We’re getting closer.’

Five minutes later, Molly heard the sound of water falling. It was far away, but it was very distinctive. Sherlock didn’t let go of her hand, not as the sound was getting louder, not as the ground became a little slippery, not as they felt the temperature drop, not as there was light slowly flooding the corridor they were walking in.

Their path stopped as they reached an opening and Sherlock turned around to look at her, a very excited grin on his face. He reached up and shut off their headlights, telling Molly to breathe before stepping aside and letting her see.

Her jaw dropped because there was a waterfall in the cave. They were standing directly opposite it, at level with it, so there was no doubt in Molly’s mind that there was quite a fall if she stepped over the ledge.

‘Is there a lake?’, she had to scream to be heard over the loud sound of the waterfall and the echo of the cave.

Sherlock just nodded, as he grabbed her hand and, very slowly, took her closer to the edge. They were still a safe distance from it, but Molly could now see the lake if she looked down. And if she looked up, she saw that there was an opening in the ceiling of the cave, where light came through.

It wasn’t just beautiful, it was absolutely breathtaking. Neither she nor Sherlock said anything for a long while. Instead, they just sat there, watching the waterfall and listening to it, holding hands at the edge of an abyss.

He asked three times before Molly was ready to leave.

The trek back seemed a lot easier, even if Molly could feel her muscles starting to burn. Once they were outside and she saw that they spent almost five hours inside of the cave, she gave herself a big pat on the back. Even Sherlock complimented her stamina, which was only mildly awkward.

She only realized she was freezing when they were outside in the sun and she couldn’t stop shivering. Sherlock wasn’t faring any better, so they drove to the nearest town and got some burning hot coffee.

It made both of them feel better, so they drove back to the forest, where Sherlock found a clearing. He parked the car and they had lunch in the grass next to it.

They ate in silence, but it wasn’t exactly that, because the forest was an orchestra of sounds around them. Molly broke it only after they were both done eating.

‘I’m kinda sad we didn’t see any ghosts.’

Sherlock huffed at her, opening his mouth to say something, but Molly beat him to it, a thought quickly forming.

‘Did you ever solve a case involving ghosts?’

He blinked at her, before a smug smirk formed on his lips. ‘Did I never tell you about the Abominable Bride?’

‘What? No, I don’t think you did.’

Sherlock did something weird, then. He grinned wildly at her, as he rearranged himself on the grass, closer to her. He reached for her hand, but didn’t really get there to hold it. Still, he told his story. His dream.

It was insane. Victorian London with his friends and foes? Absolutely insane.

Only when Molly’s jaw was on the ground and Sherlock was done explaining his deductions, only then did he admit that he was high when he dreamt it.

‘High as a kite’, Molly breathed out.

For some reason, it made Sherlock laugh. It was oddly synchronized with the sounds of the forest around them.

▽△

They spent the next hours exploring the neighboring towns, meaning that Molly looked around the shops and Sherlock kept a running commentary of everything he deduced. She didn’t mind it.

The only thing she bought was a quilt for the Holmes’ living room, which Sherlock was very against, saying that his parents didn’t expect anything from her. But Molly still got it, because it would look good and she knew Mrs. Holmes will like it.

In one of the shops, Sherlock got recognized. He was almost humble about it, but he forgot he had to act a certain way when the clerk mentioned the mystery of the local mansion. It used to be owned by the richest man in town, but during the Second World War it was converted into a hospital. The owner died shortly after, and he took with him to the grave the location of a treasure. Apparently, he had hidden all his valuables somewhere in the mansion as the war started, but nobody was able to find it.

‘You’re going there tomorrow, aren’t you?’, Molly asked back at the car.

‘Of course not.’, Sherlock clicked his tongue. ‘Mummy would be furious if we skipped on the barbeque she has planned for tomorrow. We’ll go on Monday.’

‘Oh, I’m coming along?’

He frowned. ‘Of course you are. Do you not want to?’

Molly smiled. ‘I do, it’s been a while since we had a day out solving crimes together.’

Something passed through Sherlock’s eyes, then, something dark, but it was gone quickly enough. Molly didn’t dwell on it too much, she knew exactly what he was remembering, the day he acknowledged her engagement with Tom. She didn’t want to think of it, so she asked Sherlock if they should swing by the bakery and grab something sweet for dinner.

▽△

Mrs. Holmes did like the quilt, but not as much as she liked hearing her son talk about the cave adventure he and Molly had, or the excitement of a new mystery.

▽△

The barbeque they had on Sunday was sinful. Mr. Holmes and John took turns grilling, as Sherlock and Mycroft set the table and cut the veggies, while Molly and Mrs. Holmes did absolutely nothing all day but drink Hugos and mimosas in the sun.

At one point, when they were all around the table, Mrs. Holmes smiled wildly.

‘I love having all my boys around.’ She said this including all the men at the table, John too. And then she looked at where Molly sat, with Rosie in her lap. ‘And now I have girls, too.’

Sherlock groaned. Mycroft sniffed distainstfully about sentimentality.

Molly and John locked eyes.

‘I don’t know how I feel about being a Holmes.’, he quirked up, an amused glint in his eyes.

‘There are more terrible things to be.’, Molly giggled. ‘But Rosamund Holmes sounds dreadful.’

That got everyone laughing, except for Sherlock, who made a half assed attempt to argue with her.

▽△

There was a knock on her door hours after everyone went to bed. Molly wasn’t asleep, she had been reading, so she opened the door.

Sherlock’s pajamas were rumpled, as was his hair, and he was barefoot. A sight to see, really, but Molly managed to get past the want she felt in her chest and ask what was wrong.

‘Nothing.’, he came inside and gently closed the door behind him. ‘I can’t sleep and all my books are in here.’

She went back to her place on the bed, picking up her own book. After Sherlock got the book he wanted, he seemed to hesitate. Molly didn’t, she crossed her legs and gestured for him to take a seat next to her.

He smiled, briefly, but he did sit down and got comfortable. Silence fell upon the room and Molly fell asleep with her book in her lap.

▽△

She woke up to the sound of banging on the door, Mycroft saying something mildly rude and urging them to come down for breakfast.

Sherlock said nothing as he untangled their legs and left the room. But he was blushing furiously and for some reason, that red cast to his cheeks made her feel a lot less awkward about having shared a bed with him.

▽△

Mycroft was the only one to throw them some looks at breakfast, which made Molly realize he hadn’t told anyone else. She didn’t know how to feel about that, but really, there was no time to think about it, considering Sherlock was urging both her and John to eat quickly so that they could leave.

He was clearly in work mode. Thankfully, both her and John knew how to deal with that.

▽△

The mansion was a tourist spot now, so they were able to ask for a guided tour. As soon as the guide introduced himself, Sherlock inquired about the mystery of the owner’s lost treasure. He got recognized then, and the guide was quick to call the person who was now in charge, the original owner’s grandson.

His name was Andrew and he was on the younger side, obviously excited to have Sherlock Holmes there. Not only did he agree to show them everything, but he offered a lot of money if they found the treasure.

Molly let Sherlock and John have at it. They were a well oiled machine, working in tandem perfectly, knowing what the other one needed and knowing what the other was going to do before he did.

As they toured the mansion, Molly did her best to keep herself out of their way. She enjoyed the tour, especially considering Andrew was telling them a lot of things about the history of the house and that of his family, but more so because the consultative detective and his blogger in action were a thing of beauty.

They all but forgot about her, but Molly wasn’t mad about it. They remembered she was there when they got to the basement, because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

‘This space was converted into a morgue, during the war. That part there had a few freezers, and this, as you can see, is a furnace, used for-’

‘No.’, Molly said strongly, making all the men to look at her.

‘Yes.’, Andrew frowned. ‘There were a lot of battles in the area and there was not enough space to store all the bodies.’

Molly tried to keep her mouth shut, really she did, she didn’t want to be rude, but Sherlock made his way to her side and looked her in the eyes.

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Crematory furnaces have always had specific measurements, even during a time of crises, even during a war. This one is too small.’

‘Why do you know the measurements of a World War Two furnace?’, John asked in only a mildly disturbed voice.

Molly looked to him. ‘Do you really think I’d end up working in a morgue if I wasn’t just the little bit fascinated by them?’

John pulled a face. Sherlock was still looking into her eyes.

‘So you’re a pathologist, then?’, Andrew asked hesitantly.

She turned to look at him, nodding. ‘After the war, has anyone used this furnace?’

‘We don’t use it now.’

‘Obviously.’, Molly nodded, pointing at the dust and rust gathered on top of the machine. ‘But have there ever been accounts of it being used in the late 40s? 50s?’

Andrew shook his head. ‘I’ve never heard or read about it.’

Molly nodded, and turned to look at Sherlock, who was still staring at her. It was as if he was reading, but after a few moments, he must have seen what he wanted in her eyes, because Sherlock nodded firmly and pulled out a pair of gloves.

‘Do you want to do the honors?’ He said it very seriously, as he extended the gloves to her.

Molly didn’t take them, wrinkling her nose. ‘Too much dust for me to handle. I’ll guide you through it.’

Sherlock only glared at her for a second.

Still, she did exactly what she said she would. As Sherlock all but got inside of the furnace, Molly guided him through it, using the knowledge she had of the machine to help Sherlock realize that the bottom of it was unusual.

From that point on, it took two minutes for Sherlock to find the switch that opened the hatch. The three men worked together to push the furnace, revealing a hatch underneath it. A lot of dust rose when they opened it, and they had to use a flashlight to look inside, but it was there. The treasure was there and Andrew was in shock.

‘I really didn’t think that would work.’, Molly said out loud.

Sherlock exclaimed happily and turned to her, quickly throwing his gloves away before grabbing her cheeks and kissing her forehead.

‘Molly Hooper, you just solved the mystery.’

‘You found the switch.’, she breathed out.

‘I never would have thought to look at the furnace.’, he kissed her forehead again, and then her cheek.

He went back to Andrew’s side, clapping him on the shoulder and bringing him back to reality.

‘You need to call every historian you know, all of these objects need to be authentified and valued.’

‘I have to write you a check.’, Andrew was clearly in shock.

Sherlock grinned, giving him his card, saying that there was no rush, they were staying with his parents for the rest of the week. He rushed to leave, and Molly and John rushed to follow.

On the way home, they stopped at the bakery in town and Sherlock got her the biggest chocolate cake they had available.

▽△

He came to her room again, that night, but he didn’t even take a book, he just lied down next to her on the bed. It felt only mildly awkward. It was clear that Sherlock had something on his mind, so Molly shut her book and looked to him.

‘You’re brilliant.’, is what he opened with, cutting Molly off before she could say anything. ‘No, you are, you are brilliant, and not just in your area of expertise. You’ve proven that time and time again and I really wish you’d stop looking down at yourself.’

Molly huffed. ‘I do know my strengths, Sherlock. It just took _you_ a little too long to see them.’

He glared at her for a while, but did not deny it. ‘So if I say that you’re beautiful…’

She blushed, of course, but she held her ground. ‘I would politely thank you and point out that I’d look even better with a bit of makeup on.’

It took awhile, but Sherlock did smile. He shook his head and looked away from her, all but sprawling on the bed and blinking, slowly, at the ceiling.

‘What else can you tell me about the history of morgues?’

Molly couldn’t keep the excitement in her voice as she started talking.

▽△

Sherlock did go back to his guest room that night, but it was only when Molly was struggling to keep her eyes open, and he only left after he kissed her forehead and told her, yet again, that she was brilliant.

▽△

Molly woke up very late that day, closer to lunch. She still made herself coffee, and apologized profoundly, which seemed to amuse everyone.

The weather was lousy, gloomy and raining, and after lunch, Molly was forced to grab her book and read in the living room, instead of going in the garden. Mycroft said he had to answer some emails, so he brought his laptop and sat down on the other side of the couch. John joined Rosie in taking a nap, and the Holmes’ parents disappeared as well. Sherlock sat himself down in an armchair and turned on the tv, settling on a documentary. They opened the front door, letting a little cold air come in.

When Molly finished her book two hours later, Mycroft was sleeping with his laptop perched on his knees and Sherlock had shut off the tv, his eyes now skipping quickly between his brother and Molly.

She raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, going back to looking at Mycroft. Sherlock frowned.

Molly sighed, gently got up and gathered the quilt that was on the back of the couch. After she placed his laptop on the coffee table, she covered Mycroft with the soft blanket, thankfully managing not to wake him up.

She raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, who kept on frowning at her. Molly extended a hand to him, and he took it, easily following her through the house. After closing the front door, she led him to the kitchen, gently closing that door too.

‘What are we doing?’, Sherlock whispered.

‘I was thinking either gingerbread cookies or chocolate oatmeal.’

‘We’re baking?’, he scrunched up his nose.

‘It’s really confusing to me how you don’t enjoy baking. You are a chemist, after all.’

He considered it. ‘Could we make chocolate muffins?’

‘That depends. Does your mother have a muffin tray?’

Sherlock pointed to a very specific cupboard, a mildly excited look in his eyes. ‘I’m sure there are chocolate chips too.’

Molly giggled, but she couldn’t deny him. Sherlock helped, brought her what she needed and kept her company. It really wasn’t that much different than the time they spent together in the lab. They split the tasks between them, talked easily about this and that and danced around each other around the space. The only difference was that Sherlock kept stealing chocolate chips.

▽△

Everyone enjoyed the muffins. Sherlock said he made them all by himself, but nobody believed him.

Mycroft kept shooting Molly confused looks throughout the evening, and it made her feel really sad, the knowledge that he was not accustomed to people showing him kindness.

Come night, there was a distinct lack of Sherlock in Molly’s room, and a very familiar longing in her chest.

▽△

The rain kept on throughout the next day. Sherlock was visibly getting angsty, being cooped up inside, so they spent most of the day playing board games.

How it didn’t end in bloodshed, Molly had no idea.

Mrs. Holmes kept supplying her with various glasses of alcohol, which showed that the woman had seen things, and had developed a particular coping mechanism for these types of days. Bless her, really.

▽△

That night, Sherlock didn’t knock at Molly’s door. He barged in at an ungodly hour, white as a sheet, shirt wet with sweat, shaking a little. She had not heard him scream, but knew the signs of a nightmare either way.

‘Do you want to come to bed?’, she whispered. ‘Or do you want to go outside?’

‘It’s raining.’, he said quickly.

Molly got up, put on a pair of long jeans over her sleeping shorts and a hoodie. She grabbed Sherlock’s hand and led him downstairs, made him put on one of his father’s coats before going outside.

It was raining, pretty badly, but the porch offered some shelter. As soon as he was out, Sherlock took a deep breath and leaned back against the door. Molly moved to go sit on a chair, but he grabbed her hand tightly, so she didn’t.

Instead, she stood before him. His eyes were closed and he was still shaking, but he was taking controlled breaths and it seemed to be working. Still, Molly kept silent until Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at her.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

He pursed his lips and shook his head. Molly nodded, unsure of what to do.

‘I can’t shake him off.’, he whispered into the night. ‘Magnussen, Euros, and it’s still Moriarty that plagues my dreams.’

Molly’s heart dropped to her stomach, then. She could relate, though, she still dreamt of Jim some nights, felt him kissing her before cutting open her throat.

‘Because he was the first one to get to you.’, she said in a whisper. ‘He was the first one to really be a threat to you, Sherlock, and that’s…’, she gulped, ‘terrifying.’

‘But he’s dead.’, he bit out. ‘He can’t hurt me anymore.’

‘Be that as it may, sometimes the brain fails in acting logically.’

Sherlock scoffed at that. He was still shaking, a little, so Molly got closer to him. She pushed their chests together and wrapped her free hand around his shoulders, settling it at the base of his neck.

He inhaled sharply, but he also relaxed in her hold, pushing his cheek to the crown of the head.

‘Do they happen often?’, Molly asked hesitantly.

‘Not really. Every other month. But when they do, they…’ He didn’t go on.

‘They’re terrible, I know.’

‘You… know?’ He held back at that, moving his head until he could look into her eyes, clearly concerned.

Despite herself, Molly smiled. ‘Moriarty threatened to kill all your friends and he did ruin your life, making you fake your death and spend two years on the run, but… At least you didn’t have him in your bed.’

Sherlock flinched with all his body, and he hugged her strongly.

‘It’s okay.’, she whispered against his neck. ‘These nightmares, they only have the power to hurt us momentarily.’

He didn’t say anything, he just kept hugging her for a while.

But then she felt Sherlock pulling her even closer to him, except that he wasn’t. He yelped, falling back against where the door was supposed to be. He would have fallen to the floor when Mycroft opened it, but the older brother managed to catch him before that happened.

Mycroft did not bat an eye on the state of them, instead he glared. ‘You were yapping very loudly.’

‘Were not.’, Sherlock didn’t miss a beat.

They both rolled their eyes, but Mycroft joined them outside, shutting the door behind him. He also got out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing one for himself and giving one to Sherlock.

Molly just watched them, for a while. Puffing smoke, in their pajamas with their father’s coats over, in the darkness of a rainy summer night.

‘How you expect to ever quit smoking in beyond me.’, she finally said.

‘Oh I can quit easily.’, Mycroft smiled at her. ‘In fact, I do quit. Quite often.’

‘Did you just make a joke?’, Sherlock seemed appalled.

‘It was rather bad.’, Molly whispered to him.

Mycroft glared at her, but somehow, she could tell he didn’t mean it, so she smiled. It only aggravated him, and it aggravated Sherlock as well.

‘Why the hell are you smiling right now?’, he asked her.

‘Multiple reasons. You forgot you’re still holding my hand, Mycroft is wearing fluffy bunny slippers, the rain smells delightful and you both look like tiny dragons when you smoke.’

Needless to say, both of the brothers glared at her very strongly. But Sherlock didn’t let go of her hand.

▽△

Mycroft managed to corner her the next day, and honestly, she had been expecting it. So she smiled at him, as kindly as he could, and waited for him to get his thoughts in order.

‘You are a very peculiar specimen, Miss Hooper.’

She huffed. ‘You really should start calling me Molly.’

‘Molly’, he rolled his eyes, ‘you are a very peculiar specimen.’

‘I am? Why is that? Beause I can keep up with the Holmes’?’

‘No, because you have taught my brother the meaning of _eros_.’

He said it so easily, without any trace of a doubt. It was baffling.

‘Do you really think that Sherlock is in love with me?’, Molly knew she sounded incredulous.

Mycroft opened his mouth to answer, but she didn’t let him.

‘No, but really, _in_ love? Not… friendly love? Love that comes from working in a lab at three in the morning? From falling asleep, reading side by side? From-’

‘They’re not mutually exclusive.’, Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

‘I think they are.’, Molly countered around a smile. ‘We both know Sherlock loves me, there’s no doubt about it. But it will never be more than purely platonic.’

Mycroft narrowed his eyes at her. ‘You don’t truly believe that.’

If this conversation had taken place two weeks ago, Molly would have really, honestly, without a shadow of a doubt believed that Sherlock was not in love with her. But now, she couldn’t say that.

Because he was different here, at his parent’s cottage. Not just with her, but in general. He was more playful, more predisposed to smiling. More insufferable and bitchy, yes, but he was a very light version of Sherlock Holmes.

‘Don’t doubt it.’, Mycroft told her, like a teacher talking to a student. ‘Don’t think that it’s just the close proximity, or the cottage, or our parents. It is not.’

‘How can it not be?’

‘It’s much more than that.’ Mycroft looked away from her, taking a deep breath. ‘The change took place in Sherrinford, but it had started before that, before he took a plunge to his death.’

‘You can’t know that.’, she sounded weak even to her own ears.

He looked to her in a very superior way. ‘I was there before the fall and Sherlock begging me to put you on our surveillance list was a little odd at that moment.’

‘That’s not-’

‘I was there in Sherrinford as well, and it was the cruelest thing I have ever seen.’

That shut her up, and it shut her up quickly. She knew, of course, that John and Mycroft were both there, Sherlock had told her. But she had never discussed it with either of them, not really.

‘I’ve seen a lot of things in my line of work, Molly.’, he went on somewhat gently. ‘But what transpired between you and my brother…’

He shook his head slowly, his hand coming up to his chin, scratching the little stubble he had there.

‘It broke my heart.’ Mycroft meant it, she could read it in his eyes.

‘And not because I was watching a lovely woman crying, not because I was watching my little brother tear a coffin with his bare hands.’

She gasped at that, because Sherlock had never told her he did that.

‘It was heartbreaking because I saw it in Sherlock’s eyes, the moment he truly learned what loving a woman meant, and we both knew that there was nothing he could do about it.’

‘Mycroft’, she breathed out shakily, ‘what is your point? Why are you telling me this?’

He smiled, then, just a little fondly. ‘I think he’s … stuck, let’s say, in that mindset. I think he will never do anything about it, because he thinks he doesn’t deserve the luxury. But he wants to.’ Mycroft smiled. ‘I know my brother, Molly, so trust me when I say that he wants you. And I don’t mean just _eros_ , but _ludus_ and _pragma_ as well.’

Molly took a deep breath. ‘This isn’t happening. You are not standing here, in your parents’ backyard, telling me to… make a move on your brother!’

‘It does sound ridiculous, if you put it like that.’, Mycroft tilted his head. ‘I just wanted to assure you that, should you chose to act, it would not go amiss.’

Molly just looked at him, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.

‘Talk to John, if you don’t believe me.’

He winked at her, Mycroft Holmes _winked at her_ , and then he was gone, leaving Molly’s brain in chaos and her heart in a blender.

▽△

When she went back inside, Sherlock leveled her with a look.

‘Whatever it was that Mycroft told you about me, do not believe it.’

Molly laughed, very bitterly.

▽△

Despite every neuron in her brain yelling at her not to, Molly talked to John. That evening, they put Rosie to sleep together, and afterwards, she stopped him from going back downstairs. They sat side by side at the edge of the bed and Molly kept her voice low, as to not wake the baby, but her voice didn’t waver.

‘You are the only person in the world who really knows Sherlock.’

He was evidently doubtful. ‘Am I?’

‘Yes, because you… didn’t know him when he was growing up. You didn’t know him when he was a bratty collage student or when he was a junkie. But you know how he was when you met, and you know how he is now.’

‘Right, yeah.’, he relented. ‘What’s this about?’

She took a deep breath and forced herself to look at John.

‘Do you think that he’d be capable… really, I mean-’, she took another breath. ‘Would he be capable of actually being with me?’

John’s eyes grew very wide and his mouth opened. He stared at her for a long, long while, but then he closed his mouth, let out a long breath and relaxed, looking incredulous.

He smiled at her, meeting Molly’s eyes. ‘Yeah. I do think so, Molly. Bloody hell, I do.’

She cursed under her breath, looking away. Having confirmation from John, it was… everything. Molly couldn’t deny it anymore.

‘He also wants to.’

Molly looked up sharply upon hearing John’s voice, because he sounded… cheeky. He was smiling at her, still looking incredulous but with a spark in his eyes.

‘I’m as surprised as you are’, John snorted, ‘but I’m… pretty sure he wants to be with you.’

She nodded at that, taking it as the truth because it was coming from John. It was very overwhelming, her mind kept going in several directions at once, she didn’t know what to think, much less what to say.

They stood in silence for a while, before John gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her, a little. She pushed her cheek to his shoulder and took several deep breaths.

‘What now?’, he asked around a smile.

Molly looked, somewhat helplessly, at him. ‘I need to think.’

With that, they went downstairs, where Sherlock narrowed his eyes at them and Mycroft smirked at Molly, evidently triumphant.

▽△

Andrew came by the next morning, and they took tea in the garden, the rain finally letting up.

He was beyond excited, saying that the treasure was still being appraised, but that it was a lot. It was impossible to not get infected with his enthusiasm, Molly and John were both quick to succumb, and Sherlock was trying really hard to resist it.

The check Andrew gave Sherlock had five figures.

‘That’s too much.’, John gulped.

‘It’s really not, mate.’, Andrew snorted. ‘You deserve five times more, but I can’t spring that kind of cash right now.’

Sherlock shook his head, extending the check to Molly. ‘You should take it.’

‘No.’, she didn’t hesitate.

‘If it weren’t for-’

‘No, Sherlock.’, Molly told him as sternly as she could. ‘You and John are the detectives here and I am positive you would have found it even without my help.’

It was clear that he didn’t agree with her, because Sherlock did glare at her for a beat longer, but he did give the check to John.

‘I knew you were gonna say that.’, Andrew said, surprising everyone. He was smiling at Molly. ‘It’s a small world, Doctor Hooper, and Darren Lynwood was the best man at my wedding.’

She blinked at that, very surprised.

‘He’s a doctor at Bart’s, is he not?’, Sherlock asked, suspiciously.

‘Yes.’, Andrew nodded. ‘He teaches part of the pathology module, so he knows Doctor Hooper. And after I called him on Monday and mentioned your name…’

He paused, reaching into his briefcase and pulling out a thick looking envelope. Andrew extended it to Molly. ‘This is for you.’

‘I couldn’t possibly-’

‘I insist.’, Andrew smiled at her. ‘Open it and I’ll explain.’

She did so, cautiously. There were a couple of papers in the envelope, but she didn’t focus on them, but at the jewelry box that was also inside. It was clear, so she immediately saw the ring it held.

It was a [beautiful thing](http://www.ringscollection.com/details/2880/antique-art-deco-ring-vintage-diamond-art), a simple gold band with an ovat at its center, composed of thin lines and tiny spheres of silver, displayed in an Art Deco sort of fashion. It reminded her of the frames she saw on some paintings or mirrors, but in the middle, upon more thin lines neatly arranged, there was a large diamond and two smaller ones. 

With wide eyes, she looked back to Andrew.

‘It’s not that expensive, really, just a couple thousand quid.’

Molly opened her mouth to refuse it.

Andrew shook his head. ‘It’s already in your name, that’s what the papers there say. My lawyer took care of it.’

‘I can’t possibly-’

‘It’s already done.’, he cut her off. ‘There’s also papers dating it and a value approximation, and there’s also its history. It belonged to my great grandmother, who bought it in France before the First War. If you want to sell it, it’s fine, but I’d like you to wear it.’

‘It’s beautiful.’, Molly managed to breathe out.

Andrew seemed pleased. ‘It is beautiful and, honestly, most of the things you uncovered under my furnace will end up being very well preserved in museums or private collections. I’d like to know that there’s at least one thing that is going to be… used. Not locked up behind a glass.’

‘Thank you.’, was all Molly managed to say.

‘No, thank you.’, Andrew smiled, looking back to the men. ‘Thank you all. This is a huge thing, not just for me, but for the history of this place.’

He smirked at John. ‘If you end up writing a blog post about this case, I’ll print it and hang it up on the side of the castle.’

Andrew left soon after, John seeing him out, and Molly was left with Sherlock. She was still in shock, and he didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved his chair closer to her so that he could inspect the ring that she was still holding.

‘Looks like it will fit.’

‘Is this what it’s like?’, she turned to him. ‘Is it always like this for you?’

He tilted his head. ‘Not always. Not all cases I take end as well as this one.’

Molly put her free hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating like crazy.

‘How did we ever think you didn’t feel anything? This is… beyond intense.’

She didn’t look at him, but she did feel his fingers gently caressing her back. He didn’t say anything, and she managed to calm down by the time John came back.

‘So’, he grinned, ‘I think we should come visit your parents more often.’

‘Or we should bring Molly along more often.’, Sherlock countered.

The crazy man actually meant it.

▽△

Molly had planned to sit herself down and think about Sherlock, really think about what she wanted to do about him moving forward, but he had other plans.

Once lunch was over and everyone retired to their rooms to take naps, Sherlock insisted they go out. He clearly had a specific place in mind, but he refused to tell her. He only said there was no need to get pampered up, normal clothes will suffice but they should be comfortable.

Molly kept on sighing, but she did follow him to the car.

Their first stop was the town pub, where Sherlock got them coffees to go, which Molly was grateful for. As he drove away, she noticed that they were heading in a new direction, so she deduced that Sherlock was taking her in a new place.

The drive took a little over an hour, time which was spent in silence, with classical music playing in the background. Molly drank her coffee contentedly, bare feet on the dashboard (much to Sherlock’s amusement), looking out the window to the green scenery.

He stopped the music once they entered a town that Molly missed the name of, but it seemed to be a properly sized town, larger than the one his parents lived in.

‘We’re here.’, Sherlock smiled briefly at her, even as he was still driving through winding small roads.

‘And where is here?’, she couldn’t help but ask.

‘Oh, did I not tell you?’, he smirked at her, prompting Molly to punch his shoulder.

He didn’t even flinch. ‘We’re at what is, arguably, one of the best places in England.’

Molly looked around, evidently confused. Sherlock was now parking the car, on a small off road, but she couldn’t see anything around that might have deserved Sherlock’s high praise.

He just kept on grinning, didn’t stop as they got out of the car and made their way down the street.

Sherlock stopped in front of a house. It wasn’t as large as his parents’ cottage, but it wasn’t small either and it was a beautiful house, clearly old but well maintained. There was a small garden in the front, with a few flower bushes and Molly could see a large tan dog sleeping on the porch.

Still grinning, Sherlock rang the bell, completely ignoring Molly’s confusion.

The dog started barking, but did not come running to them. Instead, it waited until the door to the house opened, an old man stepping out.

He yelled a ‘Who goes there?’, but he recognized Sherlock before he stopped saying the words, because the man grinned.

‘Go get ‘em, Buddy!’, the man patted the dog, who came running to the gate. Somehow, it opened the gate and Sherlock managed to open it half way before the dog jumped on him.

This pleased Sherlock immensely, who started petting the dog and all but cooing at it. It’s name was Buddy and it was clear that Sherlock was an old friend.

The love fest stopped quickly enough, though, and the three of them made their way to the porch, where the old man was waiting.

The man was a little shorter than Molly, and he was well into his 70s, she thought. One of his eyes had a white cast to it, which made her think he was blind in it, but the man still looked directly at Sherlock as he made his way over.

He also hugged Sherlock tightly, which he allowed and even returned.

‘It’s so good to see you, kiddo. It’s been ages since you’ve come visit!’

‘I do apologize for that.’, Sherlock nodded, stopping the hug. ‘But there have been a lot of things happening.’

‘Oh, I have no doubt.’, the man snorted. ‘Well, come on in, I’ll put the kettle on, you’ll tell me all about it.’

Molly felt very awkward as she was guided inside of this man’s house, but Sherlock threw her a look. It was excited, but soft, and Buddy was yipping at her legs. Once they got into the kitchen and sat down at the small table, Molly relaxed, a little.

The man put the kettle to boil, and then turned and fixed his eyes on Molly.

‘Let me guess, young lady. You must be Molly.’

She blinked, surprised. ‘Yes, hello. It’s nice to meet you, sir.’

The man smiled, kindly, at her. ‘Pleasure, my dear. Sherlock mentioned you, sometimes. The only pathologist who can handle him.’

Molly smiled back, still confused.

‘Oh, Sherlock.’, the man rolled his eyes. ‘You haven’t told her who I am or why you’re here?’

‘Nope.’, he smiled, unperturbed.

The man shook his head, before looking back to Molly. ‘My name is Dorian Bane, and in my youth, I used to teach science. I used to tutor Sherlock when he was this high.’, he pointed somewhere near his stomach.

‘That must have been difficult.’, Molly smiled.

‘Quite.’, Sherlock piped up, once again, unperturbed.

‘We’ve had some good times, and we’ve had some bad ones. As I’m sure you know.’

Molly giggled.

‘It’s been better since he started doing what he does.’, Mr. Bane smiled, a little.

‘And since you’ve started collecting.’, Sherlock said.

‘Collecting?’, Marry raised her eyebrows.

The kettle boiled, so Mr. Bane fixed their tea. He sat down at the table after and Buddy was quick to put his head in his lap.

‘Retirement did not sit well with me, I had to find a way to keep busy. I always had a love for books, so I started collecting them.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely.’, Molly cooed, making both of the men chuckle. ‘What sort of books?’

‘Anything, really, but Sherlock has always kept his interest in the science area. So have I, really. The books I collect, they may not be modern and up to date with the world, but they are a piece of history.’

‘That is lovely, Mr. Bane.’, Molly smiled wildly.

He tilted his head in acceptance. ‘I can’t enjoy them as much as I did a decade ago. But I still collect them and sometimes, I get kids from town to read them to me when they need the practice. And everytime Sherlock gets the chance, he stops by and raids my stash.’

‘You make it sound like I break in and steal your books.’, Sherlock scoffed, before turning around and looking to Molly. ‘I do pay him a fair price, no matter how much he refuses to take my checks.’

‘Enough of that.’, Mr. Bane waved a hand. ‘Now, tell me what you’ve been up to.’

Sherlock did so, for the next hour.

Molly was surprised by two things. Firstly, Sherlock did actually tell Mr. Bane what happened at Sherrinford. He didn’t go into the gruesome details, but he did talk about his sister and how she had hurt him, and then he focused more on how he was helping her now. Secondly, Sherlock was very comfortable with Mr. Bane and not only that, but he was very polite, and kind, in an effortless sort of way that showed he had always been like that.

It was lovely to watch, and Molly was content to listen to the two men talk as she had her tea, with Buddy occasionally stopping by her side for some cuddles.

When the discussion was over, Mr. Bane made his way to the living room, turning on the telly, Sherlock assuring Molly he knew his way around. They went to the attic of the house, and Molly found herself gasping.

The entire place was packet with books. There were a lot of bookcases, arranged neatly to fit as many of them as were possible, and they were absolutely crowded with books.

Sherlock grinned at her and gave her a pair of gloves. ‘Most of them are old, Molly, we should be careful.’

‘Of course.’, she started putting the gloves on.

‘Now, the medical section is in that far corner’, he pointed, ‘and the fiction is on that row. Take your time, don’t hurry. I know I won’t.’

With one last smile thrown her way, he made his way through the rows of books. Molly did the same.

▽△

They spent three hours in the attic, sometimes exchanging words, when one of them found something very exciting or something they thought the other one would like, but a lot of the time it was silent.

Molly had an incredibly lovely time and by the end of it, she had chosen a stack of seven books, most of them old medical anthologies, but also an old edition of _Jane Eyre_. Sherlock had fifteen books and a very pleased grin on his face.

They spent a little more time at the computer that was set up in the corner of the attic, that had a database of the books, apparently made by Sherlock, after the first time he was in rehab and was forced to spend months with his parents.

Mr. Bane seemed very happy to see the books go, and he explained that he was tremendously glad that they will be used. As much as he liked collecting them, he liked it even more when they found a new home. Sherlock wrote a check that was, as he said, fair, and he and Mr. Bane bantered for a while, but the old man finally accepted it.

He hugged Molly goodbye, which was nice.

Once they were back at the car, their books packed safely in the trunk, Molly tried to get Sherlock to accept money for her books, but he just waved her off.

‘As soon as we’re back home and John goes to the bank, I’ll have a very large sum of money coming in from the treasure case and really, most of it should have gone to you. It’s the least I could do.’

She let it drop, because she knew there was no winning.

On their way back to the cottage they stopped at the bakery, eating slices of cake at one of the small tables they had outside and Molly, with a stupor, realised something. Today and the day they spent at the cave, they were dates. They felt like dates, and Sherlock acted like they were. He always paid for things, he held open the doors for her, he always made sure she was comfortable, specifically told her how good of a time he had.

Molly had started the day wanting to think about what to do about Sherlock, about them. She didn’t really need to think anymore.

▽△

That night, she knocked on Mycroft’s door. He raised an eyebrow, and after she asked if she could come in, he shook his head and grabbed his cigarettes, taking her outside instead.

As Mycroft smoked, he regarded her. It was curious, yes, but it seemed a lot softer than those first days.

‘The thing about an _I love you_ ’, Molly started, ‘is that once you say it, you can’t take it back.’

Mycroft froze, for a beat. ‘Yes.’, he said slowly. ‘That seems to be the case.’

Molly shook her head, slightly. ‘Once you love something, it stays loved, and it’s a cruel permanency that can’t ever be destroyed.’

‘Yes. So no matter how cruel it may seem, you’ll always love my brother.’

She nodded. ‘And you were right.’

‘Of course I was.’

She rolled her eyes, but he apologized and asked her to go on.

‘I didn’t believe you, but I believed John. And today, I saw it.’

He hummed. ‘Saw what, exactly?’

Molly shrugged, a little, blushing furiously. ‘The spark in Sherlock’s eyes that only appears when I’m there. How he wants to hold my hand but never really gets there. How his shoulders aren’t tense when I’m with him, and how he gets a little sad when someone else comes along.’

Mycroft was smiling, a little, even if he was clearly trying not to.

‘Sherlock has never half-arsed anything. It’s to be expected, that love would hold the same sort of … involvement. So, Molly Hooper, what do you plan to do about it?’

‘Thank you, first. I’m not sure about what comes after that. Not yet.’

Mycroft kindly squeezed her shoulder after he put out his cigarette. ‘Please, for the love of everything that is holy, don’t let this become a habit. Do not ever come to me for advice again.’

She laughed, very loudly. Afraid to wake anyone up, she pushed her face to Mycroft’s chest. He was very uncomfortable, but he let her.

▽△

There was an unspoken arrangement to spend the next day together with Sherlock’s parents. They were set to leave the day after, and it was very clear that they were both sad to see them go.

So they spend the day in the garden, together. As Rosie took turns playing with the various adults, John and Mr. Holmes powered up the grill, Molly and Mrs. Holmes made a cake and, unknown to the boys, they looked at their baby pictures.

There was one picture that Molly had to take a picture of. Sherlock was eight years old, his curls a mess, his knees scraped and he was wearing a pirate shirt that had seen better days. Mycroft looked as an older brother should, annoyed to be there and dressed in a much more modern way.

But they were both sitting on a blanket in a grass somewhere, Sherlock had an open book in his lap and Mycroft was reading over his shoulder. The younger brother was evidently excited, while the older one seemed merely intrigued.

It was a beautiful picture. They were both very adorable but they were also… Sherlock as Mycroft, as they are now, in the most quintessential way.

‘You know, dear, I had my doubts about you.’, Mrs. Holmes said, making Molly look up at her, surprised.

‘Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you are not the first woman to fall for Sherlock. Over the years, there have been quite the characters prancing around him.’

Molly was positively horrified. This was way worse than Mycroft.

‘Mrs. Holmes, I don’t -’

She shut her up with a look.

‘But you’re the first one Sherlock ever give the time of day.’, the older woman went on. ‘And that boy gives you _all_ the time of his day.’

Mrs. Holmes smiled, grabbing Molly’s hand. ‘And I am glad, Molly. Even without saving his life and helping him with his cases and knowing how to deal with my son and my family…’, she shook her head. ‘You’re good people, Molly Hooper. I’m truly sorry of the horrors you went through because of my son and my daughter, but you’re good for Sherlock, in whatever capacity you two decide on.’

The older woman threw her a sly look that made her look a lot like Sherlock, and it made Molly blush furiously. But even so…

‘I’m working on it.’, she admitted.

‘Lot of hard work, I’d imagine.’, Mrs. Holmes snorted. ‘But as long as it comes from you, I’m certain he’ll see no flaw.’

That settled it, Molly thought. While she hadn’t really been looking for Mrs. Holmes’ approval, the fact that she had it meant a lot.

She still had no idea what she could possibly do to make Sherlock hers, but she knew she will find something.

Until then, she spend the day in the mist of the Holmes family, with John and Rosie, with Sherlock always in the corner of her eye and with a big smile on her face.

▽△

The next morning was a rush of packing and having too much coffee and too little breakfast, and it took a high numbers of hugs and promises to return before they were able to leave.

Mycroft got a helicopter and continuing Rosie’s series of firsts, John and the child joined him. Molly and Sherlock opted for taking the car back. He drove, and Molly once again took off her sandals as soon as Mrs. Holmes was out of sight.

Sherlock grinned at her, patted her knee twice and asked about a very specific postmortem she had to do a few years back.

▽△

Things got immensely awkward as Sherlock helped Molly carry her bags to her apartment. He had to leave, go home, there was no reason for him not to do that, but he hesitated leaving.

‘Thank you, Sherlock.’, she smiled at him. ‘I really had an amazing time.’

He clicked his tongue. ‘Could have gone better.’

Molly sighed. ‘I was talking about myself, Sherlock, not about you.’

‘Alright, fine.’, he narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m glad, then. I think you needed the vacation.’

‘Oh, I did.’, she smiled. ‘But I also needed to spend time with you. And Rosie and John and it was very nice getting to know your family.’

He didn’t seem convinced. So Molly hugged him, as tightly as she could. It took a few moments of Sherlock freezing in her embrace, but he did relax, wrapping his arms gently around her and pushing his cheek to the crown of her head.

‘It wasn’t all terrible, I suppose.’

Molly giggled. She also kissed his cheek, unable to stop herself from lingering a few moments too long, and Sherlock left with a tiny smile on the corner of his lips.

▽△

She still had a few days off work, having suspected she might need to rest after spending two weeks with the Holmes family. That wasn’t the case.

Even if she spent the entire night awake, thinking and overthinking, Molly did not feel tired. She felt excited and empowered, anxious and overwhelmed at the same time. She felt loved, and she felt love, rooted deep inside her chest, where her love for Sherlock has always been.

She got a cab and made her way to Baker Street early in the morning. She got breakfast and coffee from Speedy, as a bribe for Sherlock, because she knew she will wake him up.

Molly was right, Sherlock opened his door in his pajamas, with his hair a mess and his eyes barely open.

‘What’s wrong?’, was his first question.

‘Nothing, I just need to talk to you about something. Let’s have some breakfast first.’

He was confused, but followed her to the kitchen. They ate in silence, Sherlock more than Molly, and he all but inhaled his coffee. He excused himself to go get dressed and he looked a lot more awake when they met again in the living room.

‘I’m worried, Molly. What happened that prompted you to come here so early in the morning?’

‘I couldn’t wait anymore.’, she smiled, making his frown deepen.

She made her way to his side, boldly grabbing a hold of his hand. It confused him even more, but he didn’t pull away.

Molly took a few deep breaths and made a point to look into Sherlock’s eyes as she spoke.

‘Your brother pointed out that you have gotten into a mindset in which even if you want a particular thing, you won’t pursue it.’

‘My brother’s an idiot.’, Sherlock didn’t miss a beat. He tilted his head. ‘What particular thing?’

‘John thinks that not only do you want it, but you’d be good at it too.’

‘You’re not making any sense.’, he frowned at her, frustration seeping through.

Molly hummed. ‘Your mother thinks I’m good for you.’

That’s what made Sherlock realize what she was talking about. He froze, his eyes grew wide and a blush appeared on his cheeks. But he didn’t move away.

Molly still wasn’t sure, really. She wasn’t sure that Sherlock really wanted to be with her, so she asked.

‘Are they wrong?’

It took a beat, but Sherlock shook his head.

Molly took a deep breath. ‘I think I should have done this in the cave, or in Mr. Bane’s attic, or even in your parents’ garden.’

‘Why didn’t you?’, Sherlock whispered, not even blinking.

‘I wasn’t sure.’

‘But you are now?’, he insisted.

‘Not really.’, Molly smiled. ‘But I reckon I’ll be in a minute or two.’, she took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think you can take an _I love you_ back. No matter how dire the circumstances of saying it were.’

Sherlock swallowed thickly, looking away from her, only for a second.

‘No, you can’t.’

That was the best reassurance she was going to get in that moment, and Molly knew it. So with a deep breath, she lifted herself up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to Sherlock’s.

She was right. It took less than a minute for Sherlock to respond to her kiss, and he responded strongly. He opened his mouth, at first, then grabbed her cheeks gently, pressing his body to hers.

Molly lost track of time, but she never lost track of the love he felt for Sherlock, and the love he evidently felt for her. She could feel it in his every touch, in every breath breathed against her skin, in every kiss that made her skin burn up.

‘Oh, for god’s sake!’, a disgusted voice startled them.

Mycroft was standing in the open doorway, looking like he was going to throw up.

Sherlock recovered first. He gently pulled away from Molly, not so discreetly wiping his lips with his thumb.

‘You should learn to knock, brother mine.’ He looked to Molly, sweet fire burning in his eyes. ‘Or you could just get used to it.'

Mycroft sighed. ‘What have I done?’

Molly giggled, made her way to his side and kissed his cheek without much protest.

‘A very good deed indeed, Mycroft.’, she smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let your mother know.’

Both Sherlock and Mycroft started yelling angrily at that, loud voices directed straight at her. Molly took it all with a fond grin on her face.

She had learn that it was the best way to deal with the Holmes, and she was ready to do it for the rest of her life.

**Author's Note:**

> Eros: Love of the body  
> Eros is defined as divine beauty or lust. Eros is mainly based on sexual attraction and it is where the term “erotica” came from.
> 
> Ludus: Playful love  
> Ludus is the flirtatious and teasing kind of love, the love mostly accompanied by dancing or laughter. It’s the child-like and fun kind of love.
> 
> Pragma: Longstanding love  
> The everlasting love between a married couple which develops over a long period of time. Pragma was the highest form of love; the true commitment that comes from understanding, compromise and tolerance.
> 
>  
> 
> [types of love, according to Ancient Greece](https://thoughtcatalog.com/rania-naim/2016/02/the-7-kinds-of-love-and-how-they-can-help-you-define-yours-according-to-the-ancient-greeks/)


End file.
